


Theba

by Turnandfacethepaige



Series: Lancelot Week [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 2: Love/Hate, Hello Naughty Children It's Fluff Time, M/M, Part of Lancelotweek2017, you can pry lotor and lance have a loving adoring realationship out of my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turnandfacethepaige/pseuds/Turnandfacethepaige
Summary: Lying curled against each other in the early hours of the morning, Lotor reflects just how much he loves the boy he ran away with.





	Theba

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of Lancelot Week: Love/hate  
> I love writing fluffy lancelot so this was a real treat to write. Hope you all enjoy!!

The stars were beginning to fade.

From where he lay in their bed, Lotor could see the last remaining light of the nearby Dog star fading into the growing morning light.

The sun always rose early on Tora Fe - or at least, it rose early for someone who had spent almost four years in the darkness of space, where day and night were only distinguished by the switching on and off of the ship’s lighting system. Some days the lights never went off - stayed on for hours and hours after end as he poured over maps and studied old notes that he could lay his hands on, pages after pages, until the days bled into each other, and he ended up waking up, disorientated and confused, his face stuck to the pages of an old book, his hair sticking up in a direction that seemed physically impossible.

But on Theba, there was none of that. On Theba, there was a sun, a great glowing emerald thing that glowed, warm and hot, down onto the lush jungle that grew below it, and not one but four pale red moons that chased after one another in the sky, one trailing across the skyline until they finally set. 

And there was Lance.

Lance, who had at first seemed so cold and frigid towards him when he arrived at the castle but had warmed to him slowly; who had reached out his hand to him, helped him stand to his feet when he seemed on the verge of collapsing; who had reached out and wrapped his hand within his when he had found Lotor sobbing in the corridor, tears of fury and rage at the betrayal that he had suffered at the hands of the girls he had trusted so much. It had been Lance who slipped into his bed one night, sniffling and trying to hold back the tears that he hid so well from the rest of the team, nestled into his back and buried his face into his hair, had cried harder, louder, when Lotor had turned around and held him back tighter.

It had been Lotor who had first suggested them abandoning the group, leaving and going to somewhere where they didn’t have to worry about war and quintessence and bloody, goring holes left behind by traitorous friends. It had been Lance who had suggested they go to Theba, a luxurious jungle planet that he had visited whilst on a mission, had prepped the shuttle they would need to escape weeks beforehand, leaving Lotor to distract everyone else.

By the time they had run away in the of night, everyone else in the castle dead asleep, Lotor knew, from the look of dawning hope on Lance’s face as they flew further and further away from the castle that he had fallen too deep to go back on his promises to him.

And now here they were, nestled up in their bed in the little house they had made for themselves from their shuttle in the early hours of the morning as the sun began to breach through the small window. If he strained, Lotor could hear the faint echoing calls of the birds in the nearby trees, the haunting song carrying into the new dawn.

It was quiet here. Peaceful. Exactly what he and Lance needed.

Sweet, sweet Lance, who had helped him, who looked up at him with huge blue eyes and the glittering gleam of hope deep within that Lotor had once seen reflected on the faces of his generals, who held his hand like he never wanted to let go. 

Lotor knew he owed a lot to the boy. Owed more than he could ever hope to repay back - for all the times he had simply been there, had been able to stand him back up, to treat him like he mattered for once, like he was a being with feelings and wants. He knew he could never in a million years thank Lance enough for helping him, caring for him, supporting him.

Loving him.

Love was a new emotion to Lotor. Being brought up with a mother who’s sanity was questionable, and a father who more or less just wanted him out of his sight, the next dozen years or so in exile, followed by heart-wrenching betrayal meant Lotor never got a chance to experience that. 

But he knew now, as he looked down at where Lance was curled up on his side, snuggled against the crook of his neck, pillowed by the meat of his shoulder, that the fluttering hollowness in his chest, the tingling of warmth that spread across his cheeks, down the back of his neck in an indigo flush whenever Lance smiled at him, was something worth keeping safe. 

Love had not come easily to Lotor - but it had come to him nonetheless.

He reached out, curling his hand around the back of his head, long purple fingers coming to rest on the soft brown of his hair. Lance loved to run his hands through his own - his twig-like fingers getting tangled within the thick white waves of his hair, curling locks around his fingers to admire the silver glow of it from any reflecting light. He would style it at any chance he got; fishtail plaits done as Lotor poured over documents, a single plait, entwined with whatever flowers Lance could find, tied up in little pigtails that always made Lance chortle and giggle whenever he saw Lotor walk by, the little pigtails bouncing with every step.

He’d always wanted Lance to grow his own out - could imagine running his hands through soft sugar-brown hair, attempt to style it as much as Lance did to his own, stroking it, running hands down the waterfall of shining brown whenever Lance sat next to him on his lap. Unfortunately, as Lance gently reminded him, human hair wouldn’t grow as quickly as Lotor’s did.

But there was time for it to. 

In his arms, Lance nudged against his shoulder, making a little whimpering sound, bringing his arm around Lotor’s waist to pull him closer, soft brown eyelashes brushing against the warm brown glow of his cheeks. His plush lips opened and closed as he murmured something into Lotor’s lilac skin in his sleep.

Something told Lotor that here, snuggled up in their own little nest, they had all the time in the galaxies.

**Author's Note:**

> Please go and check out everyone else who's written/drawn/created work for the Lancelot week! It's a great ship and it's really lovely to be able to see everyone creating stuff for it. Thanks to everyone who left me kudos and comments on Sea Breeze - you're all lovely :D


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